The Out of Season Wedding March
by KeyLimeChibi
Summary: Just about everyone in the wedding party and guest crowd either stood up out of their seat, gasped ridiculously, or both. Non-nation AU, Twoshot, song reference, rated for language, humourous despite it all. PruHun Aus .
1. With this song I send you off

**The Out of Season Wedding March/Congratulations to You, Whom I Love.**

He wasn't sure what to feel when the invitation slipped out from between bills and flyers in the pile of daily mail; Happy that she still thought about him enough to send him an invitation, or pissed because it was an invitation to her wedding with Roderich? He read it over and over, that fake typewritten handwriting on that lacey, ladylike paper. He crumpled it up, he tore it in two, he threw it in the trash. Then he fished it back out, smoothed out the paper, and taped it back together.

* * *

"Your dress is like, absolutely stunning Eliza!" Feliks – the maid of honour – gushed, batting at Toris' arm as he did. "I'm like,_ so_ totes happy for you two!"

Elizaveta smiled, her face aglow with make-up and the usual bridal trimmings. "Thanks so much, Feliks," She returned, before looking to her new husband, dressed just as dashingly. Everyone was here; all her friends celebrating, happy for her.

All her friends were here, yes, but _he_ wasn't here.

She noticed his nonexistence in the room. She had noticed the moment she walked down that aisle. His lack of presence felt like all she could feel, even if her eyes were dead set on the pew before her, and Roderich standing to meet her. With every step, every click of her heel, she had to think, '_this is right. This is the right thing to do._' Was that wrong? She wasn't sure anymore, and all of a sudden the gold, jewel-encrusted band on her ring finger felt like it weighed as much as the grand piano.

"What do you think you're doing? Get'cher hands of me, I'm an invited guest, dammit!"

As the crowd began to settle to tables for dinner a commotion was raised at the doors of the hall.

"Invitation? Fuck, why would I still have it? Don't people normally keep them and pin them up in memoirs and shit? I know I did. Wouldn't miss this for the world though!" Gilbert laughed like he had been there the entire time, the hall's security members perplexed. Someone told her to sit down and let someone else handle it, but Elizaveta stood up and marched over anyhow.

"Please don't tell me you came here drunk," She hazarded. In a fit between pride and maturity, (or immaturity) she had sent the invitation to him on a whim. (Without Roderich's notice. You could imagine the surprise behind his half-framed glasses at this moment.) She didn't expect him to actually come.

"Drunk? 'The hell would I do that for?" He gave her that grin of his. That teasing, toothy grin that was as white as his hair. "On the contrary, this is the most sober I've ever been in my life." He barked another laugh. The hall guests were silent, for the most part, unless whispering. Ludwig, who was also there among the guests, decided safely not to speak up, and to continue to make sure Feliciano didn't jump in on the scene.

Gilbert waltzed forward, now that the bride of the day had given a curt nod to the security to let him go. In one fluid motion, he took her wrist (subconsciously realizing how thin it was) and planted a chaste kiss on the top of her hand. The murmurs around the room grew a notch.

"Congratulations on the wedding, Mrs. Edelstein. I'm sorry I missed the ceremony. I was held up, you see."

_By my pride and maturity, or immaturity, just like you._

Elizaveta frowned. What was he doing? He was so 180 degrees. "Thank you." Her tone was controlled. "But I will be keeping my surname."

Gilbert released her hand, looked her over, and gave a catcall of a whistle. "I have to say, you've changed a lot since you were the little boy who thought he'd grow a dick. Good choice for the strapless dress. Sexy," He clicked his tongue appreciatively, mimicking the curve of her hips with his hands in the air. Elizaveta in turn reddened with both frustration and embarrassment.

"Gilbert!"

"Ah, but due to complications – Even with our _long history_ together –" he shot a look at Roderich back at the wedding party's table, "I guess I didn't get the chance to congratulate you into womanhood in general. Well, better safe than sorry."

The Prussian took the bride's chin between thumb and forefinger, pulling her forward just enough so he could close the distance between them via smashing their teeth together. Rough, but trying to be meaningful, the kiss was so very Gilbert, Elizaveta noted somewhere underneath the boiling irritation and infuriated embarrassment.

Just about everyone in the wedding party and guest crowd either stood up out of their seat, gasped ridiculously, or both.

Surprisingly, the bride had yet to move.

"Gilbert, I demand that you release my wife this instant! You are a travesty to our wedding!" Roderich commanded, hands firmly on the dining table as he glared at the man who would always be the bane of his existence.

That seemed to bring Elizaveta back to her senses, since he eyes widened a fraction more, and a quick, resounding slap was enough to turn Gilbert in another direction. For a moment, she almost looked frightened. Frightened because she wasn't all that angry, if you went deep down enough.

"Man, still got that rusty old stick up your ass Roddy?" Gilbert laughed, rubbing his sore cheek. "Better fix that aristocrat 'tude, or you're never gonna get laid, even by Eliza!"

"Gil," Eliza started again, voice dry and almost tired. "What did you come here for?"

He stopped laughing, face turning serious. It didn't last; he broke the silence with a sigh and a dry smile. "I get it, I get it. Just go sit next to your husband," it hurt to say husband in her context, he found, "while I say a few words. They're PG, don't worry. Go go, go sit down." He shooed her with his hand. She surprisingly complied, though still suspicious.

Gilbert stood upon the platform raised off the floor where the DJ had set up, and the band was standing. He took the mic from the Arthur, (Who was also the MC for the day) as well as the Englishman's guitar. "What're you doing, git?" Arthur demanded in a hushed whisper. Gilbert shrugged.

What the hell was he doing, anyway?

"Get off, you're crowding the awesome," Gilbert pursed his lips, shooing the rest of the party on the platform to go sit down. One man show, as usual.

"Alrighty, let's get this over with," he laughed to the mic with sarcastic enthusiasm. The room was stuck in a loaded silence, everyone not knowing what to expect, but expecting something.

"So I heard this song when I was in Japan," He began casually. A slew of eyes turned to the Japanese guest, who quickly averted his gaze and waved his hands about to convey that he had nothing to do with this. "But 'cause Brits like Arthur proclaimed his language universal, I'll give you all just the gist of it all song-like in English. Can't speak a lick of Japanese anyhow, so I think it all works."

Gilbert dramatically cleared his throat.

"_Happy wedding_," He whispered with a strum.

Elizaveta found herself conspicuously on the edge of her seat as the man before her started off with a bang, doing his best not to move too far from the mic without standing still. He was always a mover anyhow.

"_Congratulations, this song is what I give to send you off,_

_Thank you, this is a song of farewell to you whom I loved._

_Bye bye_."

The entire guest party – even most of the wedding party – was absolutely astounded.

"_I wonder if a time will come where I'll get my chance,_

_Even if we're reborn . . . y'know_?"

Gilbert laughed. It was all he could do to keep from crying or doing something stupid.

"_Groom, I'll leave the competition 'till then_."

Speaking of the groom, he was fairly perplexed as well. Roderich kept glancing from Gilbert to Elizaveta. While, yes, their marriage was fairly political, (It was an arranged business thing, really.) that didn't mean it didn't bother him that she had her eyes absolutely glued on the man on the platform.

_"There will probably be times you cross each other,_

_And there will be the nights you fight,_

_But even so, since you're together, you won't be lonely, right?"_

Even though I will, Gilbert thought dryly in the back of his mind. For the moment, he focused on those stupid words he tried so hard to memorize and the strings beneath his calloused fingers.

"_Congratulations, this song is what I give to send you off._

_Thank you for all the memories we had together._"

By now, most people had a vague meaning behind what Gilbert was trying to do.

_"Well, I've decided that you look beautiful,_

_And I think it's because I fell in love with you._

_It's irritating that it suits you, but . . ._

_You really are beautiful._

_The fun times I had with you,_

_And the bitter memories when we did nothing but fight;_

_Now, they're that beautiful sepia colour._

_I'll wipe them away with my tears, and . . ._

_And . . ._

_Softly say good bye."_

If it weren't somewhat depressing, he would've found it quite fun to saunter around with all eyes on him.

"_Already, I'm running out of things to say._

_Even now it's already closed inside my heart,_

_That time, I couldn't say it . . ._

_I love you_.

_. . . I love you._"

She couldn't do it. She had to leave, to get up. She couldn't hear these words from him, not now of all times. The day her unity with Roderich had been decided, she promised to never look at Gilbert like that again. She gave up all hope on him because he would never ally himself with anyone.

She wasn't an exception.

"_No matter when it is, don't ever forget the day we met_

_If you fight, remember our first date._

_I'll say it once more, Congratulations_.

_The virgin road is the only way from here on__._

_The wedding march is for the two of you to walk together__._

_Fight nicely._

_'May you find happiness . . .'_

_And don't cheat on each other._"

The song slowed with a smash, and most of the party even clapped. The song wasn't done just yet, but she definitely was. Elizaveta stood up from the table.

"Are you alright?" Roderich asked, taking her wrist before she was out of reach. She wasn't facing him.

"Bathroom."

A pair of red irises followed her form to the door, watching her leave in a direction that wasn't the bathroom. She was gone, so was the fun of all this. The last few chords were slow, the last few lines whispered almost sarcastically.

"_Someday, give your baby my regards when it's born._

_And seriously,_

_Don't let it call me uncle_."

* * *

**AN:**

- I highly recommend listening to the song! 雅 –MIYAVI- is an absolute genius. _Kekkonshiki no Uta_ was one of his older songs, but still one of my favourites. And yes, more or less, (ooh, I rhymed. Ku fu fu.) Gilbert's speech is the English equivalent to the lyrics. Though I played with it a bit to make it a bit more grammatically pleasing.  
- I had a really tough time deciding on whether or not Gilbo should sing or just talk. I can really imagine him having a husky voice like Miyavi, too. (Well, he does. [/SHOT])  
- In terms of the last bit of lyric, I didn't quite get it at first. (Thank you so much Masakarasu fansite for the initial translation!) The TLDR essence of it is 'Great for your kid, but I'm never going to talk to it, so don't let it think of me as family'.  
- . . . In my headcanon, Gilbo is wicked at guitar. Damn you, fan art. Damn you.

The second part will be up soon!


	2. It's irritating that it suits you

A handful of people were totally smashed by the end of the evening; Arthur and the whole band to name a few. Of course, Feliks made _sure_ to catch the bouquet via elbowing a handful of the female guests out of the way. The funniest part of the evening was probably the fact that when Roderich (Ever so awkwardly) fished Elizaveta's garter belt out from under all that fabric and mesh and threw it to the crowd of males, it landed in Ludwig's wine glass. Feliciano then proceeded to offer to be Ludwig's bride, because, as is tradition that the male to catch the bride's garter belt is the next to get hitched. (As with the bouquet, but Feliks was claiming to be that poor Lithuanian's bride before the champagne even came around.) At the very least, the rest of the wedding party went without a hitch. Gilbert even stuck around for the duration of the party, dancing like an idiot with Spain and France on occasion, or messing with the Italian brothers. Not a word to the bride and groom since he got off the stage, however. Though the consensus was that once a 1/8thsober Alfred F. Jones took out his own addition to the buffet, – which was not quite recognizable as food, but was very large and very, very _purple_ – the evening was done.

After seeing everyone off, Elizaveta sat outside on the steps leading up to the hall's entryway. Her veil and gloves were strewn next to her, pearly white heels thankfully sitting off her feet on the step just below.

"_Mein Gott_, how the fuck do you walk in those . . . those needles all night?"

In the process of pulling the thousands of bobby pins out of her hair, the bride – now a married woman – turned to face the silver-haired Prussian. He, on the other hand, was sizing up the pumps that were hidden under her dress all evening. She frowned a little bit, but ended up sighing, and turning to face the parking lot again as Gilbert took a seat next to her.

"Practice, is all," She shrugged. Never in a million years would she admit the hours it took at the rehearsal dinner to simply stand without wobbling. Or that her feet were painfully burning with the white hot intensity of the sun.

A silence fell over the cool night.

"Why did you sing that song?"

Gilbert, who was staring into space – and hoping she couldn't hear his heart pounding a mile a minute – looked over to her. Her, in that mess of sleeveless, strapless white silk and mesh, now dispersed around her form like a blooming flower.

"Pft. Why not?" He passed it off with a shrug of his own.

"Do you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"Any of it. Any part of that song."

Gilbert choked on air.

". . . So, how come you're not rushing off to your romantic honeymoon with your new hubby?"

She quirked a brow at him. "Why are you avoiding my question?"

"Why are you avoiding your honeymoon?" He quickly quipped back.

Elizaveta sighed again, resting her elbows on her knees. "We're not going on a honeymoon. Not now, anyhow; Roderich and I have work to go back to."

"And you never believed me when I said an Austrian's only romantic sense comes out through a frickin' piano." She shot a glare at him.

"Roderich can be very romantic," She retorted with a frown that would make most men cry a little bit. "At least he told me his feelings normally, instead of dropping the bomb on my _fucking wedding day_ when I'm _marrying someone else._"

That hurt more than it should have, on both sides. Another heavy silence, this one with twice the load than its predecessor.

"So did you mean it?" She asked again, finally.

"Yes."

She choked on air. Well that was . . . blunt.

"So is this your grand scheme to forever torment me? To suddenly profess your love at my _wedding_?" She wasn't going to let that go. He had the worst timing ever. Always did, now that she thought about it. Elementary school, best friends and rivals, and they both assumed she was a boy – then 6th grade hit and they were split up. Elizaveta grew into womanhood, Gilbert's voice (and balls) dropped. High school comes around the corner, they're in the same second period English class and what's the first thing he says to her after three or so years? _HOLY SHIT, YOU'VE GOT BOOBS._

He was quiet for a minute. "There wasn't a grand scheme of anything." He pursed his lips as an afterthought – how dare she insult him so!

"I'm assuming there was no plan at all?"

"No plan what so ever."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because it would be surprising if I showed up in a grass skirt and screamed Swiss yodels at you."

". . . You know, that wouldn't be surprising either."

"Really? I thought that one was pretty damn creative."

"You're as creative as a fifth grader who still laughs at the word 'duty'."

"_Pffft._ You said duty."

She smacked him in the arm. Despite herself, she smiled. And laughed. She started laughing. He did too. Uncontrollably so, until the two of them were sprawled on the stairs and the lawn beside it, gasping for air and clutching at their lungs.

"You look better like that," Gilbert gasped, propping himself on his elbows. Elizaveta rolled onto her stomach, leaning on her arms.

"What, with grass stains all over my expensive wedding dress, shoe-less and irate?" She scoffed.

"Mhmm."

There was that bluntness again. Self-consciously, she began to pick the grass out of the uneven waves of caramel-brown hair that surrounded her shoulders and draped across her back.

"You know, if you did this plan-less confession years ago, we wouldn't be stuck in this mess."

For a moment, he was almost hopeful, perked. "How so?"

"Because I had a crush on you in high school."

It was his turn to choke on nothing now. "Excuse me?"

"I gave up pretty quick. You were too busy making penis jokes and claiming that you'd go your entire life without needing anyone else. What hope would I have?"

"Now _that's_ surprising." He sat up properly, hunched over slightly. "_You_ seemed too busy beating the crap out of me."

"I guess we're even then," she stood up, brushed the debris off the mesh of her skirt.

"Not even. You owe me a wedding."

"Excuse me?" She scoffed. "I just got married. Hold your horses." Elizaveta turned back to the hall's entryway, and picked up her shoes on the way. "If anything, _you_owe _me_ a wedding."

"That can be arranged." His tone was smirked, He took her by the wrist to turn her around. "Your marriage to that pansy-ass of a man is so platonic it hurts."

She scowled, not wriggling but giving effort to move out of his grasp. "Wow, you actually know a big word like platonic."

"Think about it, Eliza!" He looked almost pained. "We've been together _forever._ We fought and laughed and pissed each other off so many times it's hard to count, and those have to be the best memories I have." She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on.

"I was gonna blow a gasket when I heard you were marrying Roddy. _Roddy_ of all people! I mean, we _picked on him together_ in 3rd grade, for Christ's sake!"

She frowned at him. "That was a long time ago. And besides, our parents know each o—" He silenced her, pulling her body into his own, cupping her face in his hands with a glare that wasn't angry, but commanding.

"I. Will. Be. _Damned _if you sell yourself away to another man because of _Mommy and Daddy,_" He hissed, slow and accentuating. She wriggled in his hold, using a free hand to punch his gut. He gawked, hunching slightly and letting go.

"Oh you have some nerve telling me something like this!" her voice quivered with tears and frustration. She threw her hands up, only for them to fall to her sides with a _poomf_ from the dress fabric, and laughed. A sarcastic, choked laugh. "This is hilarious. Fucking _hi-la-ri-ous._ If you tried this stunt years ago, I would've jumped into your arms so hard you would've been knocked into next Tuesday!"

He recovered from her blow. "What's stopping you now?" They were screaming at each other. It was good thing it was the wee hours of the morning in a parking lot. She held up her hand. At first he assumed she was going to flip the bird like she always did.

"This is!" She indicated her ring finger, the silvery, shiny band glinting over the bridge of her slim finger. "This ring, my family, _his family,_ my work and his work, and _Roderich _himself!"

Gilbert's next move was either brilliant, or the damn near stupidest thing he'd ever done. He grabbed her wrist, plucked that stupid little cockblocking ring from her finger, and threw it into the street with all his might faster than you can say 'potato'. Her mouth gaped like a fish.

"You, you, you you you –" She struggled to find the right derogatory term for him. "You moron! You idiot! You _asshole!_ That ring is probably worth more than you'll make in a lifetime!" She snarled, furious tears edging out of the boundaries of her mascara.

"Fine!" he shouted back. "GOOD! I'm glad it's gone! Probably crushed by a car now! But your sweetie-pie Roddy will just go 'Oh, it was an accident, dear. Don't worry, we can get you a new, better one! I know my gay lover Kenny can get a good discount at the jewelers!"

"Who the fuck is Kenny?"

He growled, running angered claws through his choppy, silver hair. "I don't know, and I don't care!" He screamed to the parking lot. He advanced on her, more commandingly than ever. He grabbed her, forcefully, and kept his lips on hers as long as he could help it. The reason it broke was for air, and her fists beating against his sides – much weaker than he thought they would be.

"If that ring is as expensive as my life time," he breathed, "Then fine, I'll pay you back with my lifetime. You can't stay with him, Eliza, he'll drown you. His_atmosphere_ will drown you into some no-name brand _lady _wearing stupidly expensive clothing and having lame-ass tea parties and conversing politically."

"Wha—"

He silenced her with a finger, his free hand keeping a firm hold on the rest of her. "And let's face it, you're not a _lady._ You're a foul-mouthed tomboy of a woman who isn't afraid to do the dirty work, or give effort or hang with the guys. And I . . ." he rest his head against her shoulder, taking in her scent. Spices and honey, he mused, not any flowery, fake perfume.

"I'm in love with that foul-mouthed woman you are."

She brought her arms around him, letting out a sob that her rage had kept in.

"Elizaveta? _Gilbert?_"

The two of them instantly released the other, looking to the speaker – Roderich. Elizaveta quickly wiped her tears, a bit embarrassed by looking so disheveled from her spat with Gilbert. "Roderich, I—"

"How long have you been standing there, prissy?" Gilbert spat.

"A. . . while, actually," he admitted. Elizaveta looked astonished. "I just couldn't find a time to . . . intrude, I guess, would be the word."

There was a silence so loaded it rivaled a new rifle. Roderich cleared his throat to break it.

"You know, the marriage certificate hasn't been signed yet," He said casually. Gilbert and Elizaveta looked to each other.

"What—" the two of them began.

Roderich came down the stairs, putting a hand on his 'wife's shoulder. "I know you weren't as enthused about this," he looked to Gilbert with a wary eye, before turning a kind one back to Elizaveta. "And while I think you could do better than_him_, I'm . . . not opposed to you breaking this off."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean, you prick?" Gilbert ground his teeth together. Elizaveta kicked him in the shin, to which he winced.

Elizaveta wordlessly hugged the Austrian man. "I . . . I'm so sorry, I'm so . ."

He patted her back comfortingly. "It's much more becoming of you to say thank you, dear."

She laughed lightly, wiping away the last of her tears. "Thank you," she choked with emotion.

"Hey hey hey hey," Gilbert intruded, arms around Elizaveta's waist to pull her away. "I think we've cleared all this up and decided she's _mine_ now, right? No touchie."

She elbowed him again. "Don't be retarded." She belonged to nobody but herself.

But if it was Gilbert, he'd get a turn someday.

- - - -  
**Owari.**

* * *

**AN: **Rushed ending, I know. I just had to _end it _though_._ I kept circling and circling, I had no idea how to end it. [/sadface] But I hope you enjoyed the ride! I hope to write more PruHun someday, when the inspiration strikes me.


End file.
